


love me in whatever way

by darlininmyway



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Forced Proximity, Mutual Pining, did the team conspire to strand them? probably, mutually assured pining, there's only one bed, they're in love and they don't know what to do about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlininmyway/pseuds/darlininmyway
Summary: Ginny and Mike get stranded together in a small Florida town, and there's only one bed to share.
Relationships: Ginny Baker/Mike Lawson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97
Collections: Pitch Valentine's Gift Exchange 2020





	love me in whatever way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scifidreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifidreamer/gifts).



> happy valentine's day, scifidreamer!

Ginny and Mike stood on either side of the queen bed staring one another down. 

Mike’s arms were crossed over his broad chest, his shirtsleeves rolled up exposing strong, well-defined forearms. He rocked back on his heels as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. 

Ginny did her utmost to stay still under his scrutiny. His gaze felt heavy, like the physical touch she craved from him, but shouldn't communicate anytime soon. 

“Are you sure?” Mike asked. His glance slipped to the bed before it landed back on her. “I can handle the couch for a night.”

Ginny nodded sharply. “You'd have to sit up to sleep on that thing.” She pointed to the tiny pea-green loveseat on the far side of the room. “And I don't want to listen to you complain all the way back to San Diego. If we ever make it back, that is.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “We would've made it back sooner if you had your ID. How'd you manage not to have it with you?”

“How’d you manage not to have your phone on you?” Ginny replied with a pointed look. “You're lucky I was able to call anyone and tell them you got us stuck in a clown town.”

Mike shook his head. One side of his mouth kicked up in a reluctant smile. “This isn't all my fault.”

“Oh,” Ginny began as she motioned around the drab, but clean room. “This is entirely your fault.”

Mike’s arms dropped from across his chest. “At least I could pay for this,” he muttered. 

Ginny narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything when he held up his hands in surrender. 

“Fine,” Mike said. “It’s my fault we’re stuck here, happy?”

“Of course I'm not,” Ginny sighed. 

She hitched a thumb over her shoulder towards the bathroom. “Do you want to shower first, or should I go?”

Mike's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open for a second before he snapped it shut. “I'll go,” he grumbled, grabbing the plastic bag filled with items they'd managed to cobble together from their Walgreens trip, and hastily exited the room. 

The snick of the bathroom lock engaging let Ginny exhale for the first time since they'd entered their strange 24-hour-stay in Lake Placid, FL––famous for murals and their world-renowned clown college. 

Traveling as much as they did often meant delays and other travel-related inconveniences: lost luggage, bumpy flights, surreptitious photos taken by their fellow passengers, and mechanical issues. 

Until today, it hadn't meant being stranded in a small, rural Florida town.

How she and Mike managed to miss the bus back to the airport (and why none of their teammates—namely Blip— had double-checked that they were present prior to boarding their flight) still remained somewhat of a mystery. 

Ginny sat down on the creaky bed and kicked off her sneakers. She dragged the remaining plastic bag toward her and rifled around for a hair tie. She took out an oversized T-shirt with an obnoxiously large I HEART FLORIDA emblazoned on the front. 

She concentrated far too hard on the contents of the bag and did her utmost not to think about the sound of the shower running and the knowledge that a wet, naked Mike Lawson was mere steps from where she sat. 

Ever since Mike announced his intent to retire at the end of the season, Ginny’s dreams about him—about an eventual them—grew stronger, more detailed. It was that—the memory-like dream that came nightly—that made her open her mouth and tell Mike they could share the bed.

She picked up her phone, then decided against it as she didn't need to see another string of laughing-crying emojis from Evelyn at the moment. 

The TV in the room was on the inn’s information screen, a jazzy sort of music played over the scroll about breakfast being available from 6 to 10 AM daily and the pool being open until 10 PM. 

Ginny found the remote and pressed the big HBO button in the middle. A show she'd never seen before was on—filled with a white, well-to-do family screaming at one another. She hit the up button and continued to scroll through the limited options. 

ESPN had a football highlight reel playing, even though it was the middle of the summer. ESPNews featured two talking heads speculating about trades, while ESPN U mentioned nothing but SEC football. 

She climbed into the bed and settled against the headboard as she browsed the channels. She tossed aside the remote, grabbed a pillow from the opposite side of the bed and settled in as the opening sequence for _Us_ came on. 

The water in the bathroom shut off and Ginny swallowed thickly, her mind thrust back into the half-real, half made up image of Mike stepping out of the shower. She'd seen Mike shirtless enough around the clubhouse to be–if not immune to the effect–somewhat inoculated to the sight. 

She had no knowledge of what a naked Mike Lawson would look like, but Ginny had a vivid imagination, and with him on the other side of the scarred wood door potentially running a towel across thick, hairy, muscled thighs, the images that already lived in her head were almost tangibly real. 

Her breath caught in her throat as the door clicked open and steamed filtered into the room. Ginny eyes tracked Mike as he sauntered across the room in boxers with smiling yellow suns wearing sunglasses and a slightly-too-tight white tee.

She didn't manage to hold in her snicker or keep from being heard.

Mike turned towards her and frowned. His hair was wet and laid across his forehead. His damp beard left a trail of water around the collar of his t-shirt. Not even his grumpy expression could keep Ginny's stomach from tightening in desire. 

“You're gonna look just as ridiculous, Baker,” he threw over his shoulder and he walked to the closet to hang up his shirt and pants. 

“Doubtful,” she said. She got up from the bed and took her own plastic bag into the warm, damp bathroom. 

* * *

Mike settled into the undisturbed side of the bed and picked up the remote. He turned up the volume in hopes of drowning out the sound of running water. 

He had no hope of removing the image of a wet Ginny Baker from his mind, but as her friend, he owed it to her to at least try. He only had to finish out the season, and then maybe... _maybe_ they could finally address what was unspoken between them.

Mike ran a hand across his face and smoothed down the parts of his beard that he could see were askew. 

He groaned as he settled against the headboard and grimaced as his back spasmed, the long day finally catching up with him. He sent up a silent thanks Ginny told him he could share the bed with her. 

His heart had nearly beat out of his chest when she made the statement. As easy and as clear as if she were telling him to get his ass back in the box. Mike wasn't sure there was much he could do to ever erase those words from his memory, and he had no intention of ever trying to forget them. 

Even though they came in a situation he hoped they'd never repeat. 

The sound of the bathroom door unlocking made him scramble to lower the volume of the TV. 

He didn't attempt to keep his eyes from following her across the room. Her long, brown legs peeked out from beneath the same ridiculous boxers that Mike wore except they didn't look ridiculous on her. 

Her damp curls hung loose and dripped water onto the white T-shirt making it translucent in spots. 

Mike slid his gaze away when she turned towards the bed and made it obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. 

She was his friend—his crazy gorgeous, talented, smart, exceptional friend—who he happened to be in love with—but still his friend. He could manage whatever torture sleeping beside her would be for one night. 

“I thought you didn't like scary movies?” she asked him as she made her way to sit on the edge of the bed. She brandished a bottle of lotion and flipped the top open. 

“I don't,” he muttered as his eyes tracked the movement of her hands up and down her legs. “Not much else is on.” 

She hummed in response and continued to rub the thick, coconut-scented cream into her legs.

Mike cleared his throat and shut off the TV. Ginny turned to look at him, one eyebrow arched in silent question. 

Mike hitched a shoulder and moved off the bed to turn down the covers before slipping between them. 

The mattress was a little lumpy under the fitted sheet, and when he laid down, his body listed towards the center of the bed. 

He let out a sigh and rolled onto his back. “This bed is awful,” he said. He turned his head towards Ginny and watched as deft fingers braided one side of her hair. 

He swallowed thickly. Why that should move him more than a glimpse of her long, muscled, brown legs he couldn't say. 

“We're not exactly in five-star accommodations,” she said softly as she switched to the opposite side of her head. 

“A mattress that doesn't sink in the middle isn't a luxury amenity,” he replied. “I might sleep sitting up. Can't hurt worse than this.”

“Feel free.” Finished with her hair, Ginny stood from the bed and flipped off the light. The dark threatened to consume the room, would have if not for the parking lot floodlights providing an eerie glow and enough light to the room. She flipped down the covers, slipped into the sheets, and promptly rolled into Mike’s side. 

“You were saying, rookie?” One side of Mike’s mouth kicked up in a smirk. “Welcome to the middle of the bed.”

Her front was flush with his side and even fully clothed, the heat of her body was a lot for Mike to handle. He couldn't stop his eyes from following her tongue as it darted out across her lips. His eyes snapped to hers. Even in the dim light of the room, he could see how wide they were and the faint flush of her cheeks. 

She attempted to put space between them by using Mike as leverage. She brought her hands to his shoulders and wriggled her way towards the edge of the bed, kicking a leg out and managing to drive her heel into his shin. 

“Hey!” he didn't exactly shout, but it made her pause, and lock eyes with him once again. Mike's heart stirred in his chest and his cock tightened. “Unless you plan on sleeping on the very edge of the bed, it's pointless. I'd rather not add any bruises if you don't mind.”

Ginny grabbed one of the pillows that rested against the headboard and wedged it between the two of them. 

“Are you building a pillow barrier?” Mike asked with a chuckle. 

Ginny nodded. “I sleep hot and you're practically a furnace all the time. I can't imagine how much hotter you’ll be lying against me.”

Mike’s jaw clenched and his ears felt hot. Even more color bloomed on Ginny’s cheeks as she shook her head. 

“What I meant was—”

“Don't,” Mike said. “I know. It's fine.”

Mike turned on his side so his back faced Ginny and his burgeoning cock could relax and remember they were friends and that's the way it would remain until she said otherwise. 

It was pointless for Mike to deny that he'd leap the moment Ginny said yes, but he wouldn't push her, no matter how fucking good she smelled, or how much they flirted, or how many _moments_ they had together. 

He felt and heard Ginny shift in the bed, but he didn't turn to see what direction she faced. He wasn't sure he could look at her and not blurt out something life-changing. 

She sighed and shifted again, the bed creaking beneath her as she did. 

“Tell me something I don't know about you,” she spoke quietly. 

Mike grunted. “You already know everything about me, Baker.”

“I don't believe that. I'll tell you something about me first if that helps.”

“Sure,” Mike replied but had no hopes of being surprised. Whether she knew it or not, his knowledge of Ginny was vast, had grown almost exponentially from the time that they'd met until now. 

“I saw my mom cheat on my dad when I was growing up.”

Mike tensed before he turned over in the bed. The light wasn't great, but if they were sharing these kinds of things, he needed to be able to see her. 

She nodded and continued. “I’ve never told anyone that. Do you remember the guy mom brought with her during my first All-Star weekend? That was him.”

“Jesus,” Mike breathed out. “I’m sorry, rookie.”

She kicked up a corner of her mouth. “I don't feel so burdened by it anymore. I talked about it with my therapist. It still...stings. But it's not my burden to carry. So,” she paused to fluff the pillow and tuck her hands beneath it. “Tell me something about you.”

Mike stared for a moment contemplating all the things he could say about the way he made her feel, but instead, he reciprocated in kind. 

“My mother is a con artist. It was pretty bad growing up, we had to move around a lot. She stole from every close family member. She's stolen from me now, but she's still my mom. And I have a lot of money, so…”

He trailed off lost in thought until her fingers breached the barrier of the pillow between them and landed on his forearm. 

“I don't like peas,” she said.

Mike laughed and shook his head. “I know. I've seen you eat enough meals where they're present.”

She lifted an eyebrow, but Mike carried on.

“I don't like baked fruit.”

“Not even in cobblers?”

“Especially not there.”

“I feel very sad for you right now, old man,” she shook her head. “Peach cobbler is one step away from heaven.”

He didn't want to argue, but lying in bed with Ginny, her hand clasped around his arm, the space sparkling with her laughter was all the heaven he ever wanted. 

“What are you most afraid of in the world?” she asked. 

Mike’s body moved closer to the pillow barrier. He tested his hand atop the too soft mass. “I'm scared of what happens when I don't have baseball in my life anymore.”

“You’re more than baseball, Mike,” she said emphatically. The absolute certainty in her voice almost convinced him. 

“Maybe.”

“Definitely,” she said even more strongly than before. “You defined this game for so many people, but it's not all you are. Whatever you do next, you're going to be amazing at it. Because you're Mike Lawson and I don't believe there's anything you can't do.”

Mike wanted nothing more than to breach the barrier between them, wrap her in his arms, and never let her go. He swallowed thickly and tried to let the feeling settle before he continued. 

“You're only saying that because I've always been your favorite. Poster and whatnot.”

Mike expected her to laugh and deny it as always. When she moved closer to him and moved her hand from his arm to rest over his wildly beating heart, he didn't know what to expect. 

“You are my favorite,” she began in a low voice. “I'm not glad we’re stuck here, but if I had to be stuck anywhere with anyone, I'm glad I'm stuck with you.”

Mike closed his eyes and slowly let out a breath. He covered her hand with his. “I'm always glad to be with you, Ginny.”

Ginny sat up, one hand still firmly beneath his and used the other to toss the pillow between them to the ground.

“Can I lay here?” she asked, her hand tapping lightly against his chest. 

He nodded and lifted his arm. She slid beneath it, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

“Is this okay?” 

Mike wrapped his arms around her back. “Is it just for tonight?”

Ginny moved so that she could look down at him. She smiled and shook her head. “No. I'm hoping it's the first of many to come.”

“It’s because of the boxers, isn't it? Made me even more irresistible.”

Ginny tossed her head back and laughed. He winced slightly when her cold feet pressed into his legs, but it was a small price to pay to have Ginny Baker in his arms. 

Her head settled back into his neck, her warm breath causing goosebumps to break out across his skin. “Can I tell you how I feel about you, yet?” she asked. 

“You can tell me anything, anytime, Gin. I'm not going anywhere. Ever, if I can help it.”

“If I ask you to kiss me, will you do it?”

Mike nodded and brushed his fingers across her mouth, down her chin, and along the slope of her neck. “Will you ask me to kiss you again in the morning? Just so I really get it?”

“I'll ask you as many mornings as you like.”

He leaned up and captured her mouth, groaned as she threw a leg across his body and climbed into his lap. 

Every sweet dream, fantasy, and thought didn't compare to this moment—it couldn't. Nothing could beat Ginny Baker prone against his body, her minty lips and tongue tangled with his, her fingers tucked into his hair. 

“You promise?” he breathed against her mouth.

“I promise,” she spoke against his lips. “But for now, I want you to kiss me like we’re never leaving this place.”

“With pleasure.”

 _fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Lake Placid, Florida really does have a lot of [murals](http://www.muralsoflakeplacid.com/) and a [clown college](http://www.tobysclownfoundation.org/). Legit.


End file.
